


Frosting

by BurningTea



Series: Confectionery [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Cake, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel's POV, Castiel's Wings, Frosting, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of true-form, No consent issues, Sigils, Sort of a love spell, Top Dean Winchester, but not really, it's not that sort of love spell, misuse of cake frosting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/pseuds/BurningTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean brings home a cake with a spell in it which pushes a person to go after what they wish for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExpatGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/gifts).



> A scene from 'Cake' from Cas' point of view. This is the scene where Dean gives the cake to Castiel and it starts to act on them.

Dean’s excitement was almost overwhelming, the warm green of him sweeping over Castiel. With such glinting joy before him, Castiel almost missed the object Dean tapped a finger against. 

“What?” he asked. His eloquence so often deserted him around Dean.

“Cake, Cas,” Dean said, the grin on his face seeping into his voice. “I saw it and knew you’d love it.”

The box was pastel blue, a colour Castiel associated with the sky on an early spring day. More precisely, it was the colour of the sky the last time he’d soared over Lake Michigan, back when his wings were still whole enough to carry him. Threads of near-white longing caught him. He had always imagined Dean would admire his wings, and had never quite dared to show him. Now, it was too late.

Pushing that aside, he considered why Dean might have brought him cake. He hadn’t eaten anything in front of Dean since getting his Grace back, but he hadn’t told Dean food had no appeal for him, either.

“Why would I want cake?” he asked, because with Dean it was sometimes best just to ask. He may or may not get an answer, but at least that avenue would have been explored.

“Just look at it,” Dean said instead. “Tell me that is not a great cake.”

Dean lifted the lid and Castiel peered in at his present, round and huge and covered in white frosting. Something about it tugged at him. 

“It does look intriguing,” he said, and shifted his shoulders. The pull of his wings felt greater today, though he’d thought the constant dragging weight of the near-dead appendages had become…familiar enough to ignore. Dean wouldn’t find them impressive as they were. “Are you intending we eat some now?”

The cake did look appealing. Perhaps a slice would be acceptable. 

“Absolutely,” Dean said. “Hey, why don’t we get some coffee to go with it? Who says we can’t be civilized?”

Unsure if that was a question he was meant to be answering, Castiel stared up at Dean, at the beauty and grace of him, and said nothing. 

“I’ll get some plates and make a fresh pot,” Dean said, reaching to close the lid on the box.

“No,” Castiel said. “No, I can make the coffee. Shall I bring it back in here?”

“Sure,” Dean said. “You know, if you’re good with the coffee, I might go get changed. Don’t want road grime getting in the way of enjoying this.”

Dean was gone, taking the cake with him, before Castiel had to think of a reply, which was good, because Dean would likely not have appreciated the opinion that he looked at least as good as the cake, with his cheeks slightly flushed and his hair messier than usual. Perhaps he had been running his hand through it as he drove. It was a distracting mental image.

To take his mind off it, Castiel did as he’d offered, busying himself making the coffee and getting out cups. He put three aside. They didn’t look clean enough, despite having being washed. Dean deserved a decent cup of coffee in a decent cup. 

He was inspecting the fourth when Sam appeared, his large frame bringing with it a soothing brown. Sam was so often the colours of autumn, where Dean was spring and summer and a vibrancy Castiel didn’t always know what to do with. 

Sam seemed more interested in getting to bed than in staying up, so Castiel didn’t mention the cake. Sam most probably already knew Dean had brought cake, in any case, and if he wanted some he would say. 

Finally, deciding on a cup which was clean enough and large enough to be suitable, and a second one for himself, Castiel took the drinks back to the library to find Dean wearing his dressing gown. 

“Hey,” he said, as though he’d been worried Castiel wouldn’t come back. “Coffee smells good. Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel set both cups down and put down the plates he’d carried in. 

“I forgot to bring a knife,” he said. 

“Not a problem,” Dean said. “I’ll go get one. You just wait here.”

Castiel waited, but after a moment he couldn’t resist opening the lid on the box. The frosting looked even better now, white and pristine and inviting. Biting his lower lip, he ran an index finger through the topping, feeling the cool give of it as he made a furrow. 

“You starting without me?” Dean asked from behind him. “Well? What’s it taste like?”

Lifting his finger to his mouth, Castiel licked the frosting from his pad, curling his tongue to get it all. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement, darkening in a way Castiel had seen on Dean’s face before. He’d never previously seen it directed at him.

“Good?” Dean asked, a husky note in his tone.

“Very.” And it was. Cool and sweet and rich. He found he very much wanted more. He wanted Dean to have some. “You should try it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Dean said.

The robe shifted as Dean walked closer, a swaying movement to his step that Castiel was almost sure hadn’t been there earlier. The change in the fabric’s position revealed that Dean had bare legs under the robe, his thighs muscled and lovely. 

Castiel had to quash those thoughts. The longing he sometimes felt from Dean, that was for friendship, for support. Not for the desires Castiel felt stirring silver and red in his body. He vessel felt it, too, a twitchy heat snaking through it. 

“Should I cut you a slice?” Castiel asked, reaching out for the knife in Dean’s hand. 

Dean gave it up and Castiel was careful to cut two neat slices, Dean’s slightly larger. On the plates, the cake’s layers were clear, buttery beige and dark chocolate and some sort of cream between them. He watched Dean lift his slice, his fingers instantly coated in the frosting, and take a bite. Dean’s eyes closed as he groaned. Castiel felt a pull in his vessel at the noise.

“Oh my god, Cas,” Dean said. “You have to try this.”

He did, a little tentatively at first, nibbling a piece from the narrow part. Flavour burst on his tongue. It was delicious. 

Both slices were gone quickly, and Dean insisted they cut more. Castiel already had the knife ready.

This time, Dean failed to get all of the frosting from his fingers, and Castiel, unthinking, caught Dean’s hand. 

“You missed…” he said, but didn’t manage to get the sentence out before he pressed his mouth to Dean’s knuckle, lifting a stray spot of the sweet whiteness.

Dean didn’t stop him. Castiel had a fleeting thought that Dean should have done, that Castiel shouldn’t have done this, but it was gone so quickly that he didn’t let it worry him. Instead, he listened to the hitch in Dean’s breath as he licked his tongue up Dean’s finger. 

“Got it,” he said. His own words were shaky.

“Yeah,” Dean said. And reached out to the box, his eyes still locked on Cas. 

When Dean brought his hand back into view, his forefinger and middle finger were both coated in frosting. Dean held them out towards Castiel, who leaned in and licked them clean without thought. This time, Dean groaned.

“God, Cas,” he said. “You really like that, huh?”

Castiel didn’t bother with an answer. Of course he liked it. He found his own breath growing slower, deeper as Dean reached out, already wanting to taste the frosting again. This time, Dean didn’t offer Castiel his fingers. Smirking, he ran his index finger along his lips, leaving frosting smeared across them. And winked.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Castiel stepped closer and pushed up the inch needed to reach Dean’s mouth. It didn’t occur to him to use his own fingers. 

Dean’s lips were soft and giving under Castiel’s, the frosting perhaps even sweeter when tasted directly from them. The sound Dean made was even better. Dean had liked Castiel’s tongue on his fingers, so he tried that here, too, and felt Dean’s lips part.

Pulling away after a few moments, Castiel managed to remember English for long enough to speak.

“More,” he said. “Dean, more.”

Dean gave him more, leaning away only long enough to get more frosting and holding Castiel’s gaze as he painted a trailing pattern down his own neck. As soon as Dean let him, Castiel cleaned it off with as much dedication as he gave to everything else. If he found himself kissing Dean’s neck as much as licking up the frosting, Dean didn’t seem to mind. 

“Fuck,” Dean said, once Castiel had returned his attention to Dean’s mouth and left the man breathless. “I want to taste it on you.”

Before Castiel could work out what Dean meant, Dean’s hands were on Castiel’s shoulders, pushing the suit jacket until it slid down and off. He didn’t see where it went. The tie was next, and the buttons of the shirt. Castiel tried to help him, but Dean pushed his hands away.

Cool air hit the skin of Castiel’s vessel, and it felt connected to him more than it usually did. Part of him. 

He took over then, taking his own helping of frosting and marking himself with it. He drew sigils on his chest, on his stomach, over the tattoo he’d paid for when he was human and lost. The sigils were rough, imperfect, but they were true. Home. Heart. Desire. Yours. That one, he painted directly over his vessel’s heart. 

Dean’s mouth left shivering electricity along his body, sparking deep blue currents to swirl in his true-form. Perhaps to keep his balance as he worked his way from Castiel’s chest down to his stomach, Dean curled his hands around Castiel’s hips, holding on and caressing the skin there with his thumbs. The sight of Dean on his knees before him was…arousing. Dean was in sharp focus, a focus Castiel hadn’t had for a long time, since before the Leviathan, before Purgatory. Certainly before Naomi and Metatron. It was almost as though he had all of his eyes back, glowing to life across his real body, along his wings. It only made that pull towards Dean stronger. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised to feel desire pool, to feel himself grow hard. It wasn’t the first time, after all. But it was the first time with Dean. And Dean only had to shift his head slightly to see. He only had to move his mouth a little and his breath would ghost over Castiel in a way he really wanted to experience. 

If Dean’s touch felt this good on his vessel, it would be even better on his wings. If only they were whole and here, and he could ask Dean to stroke his hands through them.

He felt the wings shift at his back. He wanted Dean’s hands on them so badly that some part of his brain was trying to move them, to spread them wide like they used to do so easily. 

Dean resting his forehead against Castiel’s stomach distracted him. Dean’s breath was warm on his skin.

“I need another slice,” Dean said. Panted, really.

Castiel helped Dean to stand, his wings moving again to help him balance. They were still good for that, at times.

They ate the next pieces of cake almost demurely, sharing glances as they chewed and swallowed. The cake tasted even better. Again, Castiel felt that something about that should trouble him, but Dean offered his last crumb to Castiel, let the angel wrap his lips around Dean’s finger and suck, and that was all the thought he had room for. 

“Not much left,” Dean said. 

His wings flaring, Castiel looked into the box. Dean was right. A slice each, perhaps, sat in the box. Extra frosting coated the cardboard, though, and the frosting was the best part. 

“You’re beautiful,” Dean murmured, and Castiel found himself pulled away from the box as Dean ran a hand up along Castiel’s chest, his neck, into his hair. It trailed silver sparks in his skin. 

Dean’s other hand slid around Castiel’s back, rubbing circles along his body and into his… Castiel gasped. Into his wings. He let himself arch into it, his head falling back, and felt Dean’s mouth on his throat. His wings flared.

A thud drew them apart, and Castiel twisted with a puzzled frown to see a pile of books on the floor. 

“What…?”

“Ignore it,” Dean said. “Focus on me.”

That was the last thing Castiel remembered either of them saying for some time.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean still had his robe closed as Castiel’s back hit the wall in the corridor. It was a sin, especially when Castiel was bare from the waist up, his wings spread to either side along the wall.

“Dean,” he managed. “Dean, your robe.”

Dean pulled back from sucking a mark onto Castiel’s neck, something far more thrilling than Castiel had thought it would be, and his eyes were a deeper, richer green than before. 

“What about it?” Dean asked. He sounded dazed. Or drunk. 

A twinge of worry ran through Castiel, a dirty yellow that sapped some of his heat from him. If Dean wasn’t in his right mind… Shakily, he pried his hand away from the wall, where both of his vessel’s hands had been pressed, bracing himself, and cupped Dean’s cheek. Dean’s eyes half-closed as he leaned into it, and Castiel sent a thread of Grace through his friend. 

Friend. Was this the sort of thing friends did?

He could find no trace of alcohol and the wispy edges he caught of Dean’s thoughts, the most he could manage these days, sang of delight and determination. Dean wanted this.

“You want the last piece?” Dean asked, his eyes still only partly open.

Castiel glanced down at the floor, where Dean had half-dropped the plate carrying the final slice of cake. It was more frosting than anything. Perfect.

“Yes,” Castiel growled out. “And I want you out of that robe.”

They almost fell through the nearest door, into what turned out to be the gym.

“This works,” Dean said, though he barely stopped to look at the room before pulling Castiel inside. 

Castiel had scooped the cake up in his hand on the way past, and now he took hold of Dean’s chin with his other hand and fixed him with a look. 

“Take off the damn robe, Dean.”

That earned him a moment of total stillness, before Dean’s lip curled and he yanked the robe open, shrugging it off and letting it pool on the floor. Now, he wore only a pair of boxer-briefs, and Castiel was the one with more clothing. 

Holding his arms out to the side, Dean stepped backwards, further into the room. He kept eye-contact with Castiel the whole way. Castiel followed. 

Finally, he’d had enough, and arched his wings forwards, wrapping them round Dean. Dean stopped short, his lips parting. He didn’t stop to wonder how Dean felt that. Castiel closed the gap, pressing the flat of his palm to Dean’s body, just below his chest, and running his hand up, his fingers shifting as they passed over Dean’s muscles. He watched his own hand move, fascinated by the sight. 

“You want to get the show on the road, here?” Dean asked.

Castiel moved his hand up to Dean’s throat, curving round to cradle Dean’s cheek again. This close, it was harder to work, but he held Dean still while he marked him with the last of the frosting, more sigils: Love and Devotion and Admiration. Dean wouldn’t know what they meant, but he would feel them, however briefly he wore them. He would feel that Castiel felt these things.

“You writing your name on me?” Dean asked, his voice hushed. “Because I’m already yours, Cas.”

The shudder of joy at that made Castiel’s wings tremble, the feathers brushing against Dean’s skin. It felt like lightning shivering through his wings. 

His sigils finished, he offered his hand to Dean. Dean smiled at him as he licked the sweetness from Castiel’s skin, his tongue tracing its own patterns. Castiel found himself trying to make sense of them, but that was always the way with Dean.

“We should get you out of those,” Dean said against his palm.

Before Castiel could respond, Dean sank to his knees, his hands moving to Castiel’s belt. With Dean moving surely, Castiel let his wings pull back behind him and wound his fingers into Dean’s short hair. Short still, but longer than it had been. He could grip it, if he wanted to.

His vessel moved with Dean’s actions as the belt was removed, Dean pulling it through each loop in one swift move that looked far too practiced. From the way Dean grinned up at him, proud and pleased, he enjoyed showing that off. 

Castiel was naked in seconds, his borrowed body clearly aroused. No. Not borrowed. Inherited. This was his form now, maybe almost as much as his true form. 

Either way, he felt it when Dean leaned forward, still with that look of delight on his face, and took the head of Castiel’s erection into his mouth. Castiel had felt many things in his time, but the sensation of Dean sucking at the head of his vessel’s… of his cock was almost more than he could process. His wings, already flared, tried to stretch further. 

“Dean,” he said, and tightened his grip.

Dean pulled off for a moment, smiling up at him, something like wonder in his eyes. 

“Just hold on, Cas,” he said, and went right back to sucking him. 

Dean’s hands framed Cas’ hips, keeping him in place as Dean opened his mouth wider and took in more of Castiel’s cock. The warmth and wetness were a revelation. When Dean moved one of his hands to Castiel’s balls, fondling them and sending shooting pleasure up his spine, it was all he could do to keep standing. 

Dean sucked and teased, pressing his tongue to the underside of Castiel’s cock and dragging it along. He moved his hand to cover what he didn’t have in his mouth, moving in a rhythm which had Castiel groaning. He almost cried out when Dean pulled off.

“Steady, Cas,” he said. “We’ve got time. I’ll get you there. Besides, I want more. You want more, right?”

Castiel nodded. He wanted whatever Dean would give him. Anything. Everything. 

When Dean rose, pulling him into another kiss, he went willingly, letting the man guide them over to the mats and lowering himself at Dean’s direction. As had always been the way. His wings spread out behind him, covering the mat with feathers. 

For a time, all he felt were Dean’s hands sliding up and down his body, even brushing against his wings, as his own roved over Dean, circling Dean’s nipples and soothing along the planes of his chest, his stomach, his ass. When he reached Dean’s cock, Dean gasped into Castiel’s mouth. It was one of the best sounds he had ever heard.

Shortly after, Dean groaned again and pulled back.

“What? What is it?” Castiel asked.

“We need lube,” Dean breathed. “Stay here.”

He was up and gone before Castiel thought to react, leaving the angel spread out on the mat, his arms and legs and wings barely under his control. Fortunately, he was back almost as quickly, a bottle in his hand.

“Knew I had some,” Dean said, grinning again, and uncapping the bottle. “How’d you want it, Cas? You want to be in me, or have me in you?”

“I want you,” he said, the only honest answer he could think to give. 

Dean’s grin grew and moments later Castiel felt Dean’s hand slide along his hip, turning him almost on to his side, and back into the cleft of his ass. Closing every one of his eyes, Castiel let sensation, and Dean, guide him. He gasped again as Dean circled the muscle, relaxing into it as Dean murmured into his ear. Praise and love and admiration. Belonging. 

Dean dipped the tip of his finger into Castiel’s body, sending a new sort of friction through him, and at the same time he kissed him, deep and involving. 

“You’re doing great, Cas,” Dean said.

His lips vanished, and Castiel felt them again on his nipple, sucking and licking, and on his stomach, pressing kisses, and on his cock, sucking. All the while, Dean circled and dipped his finger, deeper and deeper again, the resistance giving way. By the time Dean had two fingers in him, and then three, Castiel was moaning and trying not to buck his hips.

Dean pulling off felt like a punishment.

“Dean,” he gasped. His wings twitched. 

“Just wait,” Dean said. “I want to feel you come with me inside you. That all right? Can I have that?”

“Yes. Anything.” Of course Dean could have anything. Anything Castiel had to give. If it continued to feel this good, all the better. 

He felt Dean tug at him and rolled over, onto his stomach. Dean pushed at his legs until Castiel was spread beneath the hunter, Dean’s cock pressing against his ass and his body draped over Castiel, Dean’s chest pushing against the base of Castiel’s wings. That was almost enough on its own.

“Gonna feel so good, Cas,” Dean whispered into his ear, and nudged the head of his cock into Castiel’s ass. 

Castiel felt every inch as Dean edged into him, whispering encouragement and love the whole time, seating himself and just staying there until Cas shifted. At that, Dean pulled out and thrust back in, speeding up as Castiel let slip groans of pleasure. He didn’t even stop to think about his conduct, or to worry that he was letting too much of his emotion show. It was all sensation and caring, being enveloped by Dean’s body, covered and filled by Dean and his love. 

He hadn’t really let himself think he would ever feel Dean’s love so openly.

The pleasure built, hot and bright and deep, and he lost himself to it. No. Not lost. Gave himself over to it, and gladly. 

“Come on, Cas,” Dean urged, his right hand finding Cas’ and slotting together, gripping. “Come for me.”

The wet heat of Dean’s breath in his ear was almost enough, but not quite. Not yet. 

“Dean,” he managed, tightening his hold on Dean’s hand. “More. Please.”

The mat under him should have been uncomfortable. He was just aware enough of anything not Dean to know that. Just. But it wasn’t. He could stay here, like this, for eons. 

“More?” Dean asked, words still low and rumbling. In this moment, his voice was as low as Castiel’s own. “You want more?” 

Dean nipped at his ear, sending a sharp spike through Castiel’s body. It wasn’t pain. It would take more than that to hurt him. It was closeness. He’d thought, when he’d ever let himself think about it at all, that being this close to Dean would be everything, and it was, but he wanted more. He just didn’t know what he meant by that.

Still thrusting, strong and steady, Dean shifted and snaked his other hand under Castiel’s chest, holding him even tighter, his mouth still open by Castiel’s ear. Castiel heard every breath and gasp from Dean. Nearly enough. Nearly. 

“Want to feel you lose it, Cas,” Dean said. A moment later, he pulled Castiel even closer, something that shouldn’t have been possible, and pushed his forehead against the back of Castiel’s neck. “Need you,” he said. A pause, and quieter, almost inaudible. “Love you.”

That was it. 

Castiel gasped Dean’s name as he came, the feeling not unfamiliar after his time spent human. But, fuck, it was brighter and deeper as an angel. His Grace spiked, his feathers sparking blue and gold, and his whole form stiffened as the heat ran through him, human body and angelic both. 

“Cas,” Dean gasped, and Castiel felt Dean spilling into him. 

But it almost didn’t matter. Either way, Dean had said he loved him. It was more than Castiel had ever dared hope for. Not that Dean loved him. Some part of him knew that. But that Dean would say it…? He smiled, and stretched, right out to his wings, and was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this shit? I feel like it might be shit. 
> 
> On the other hand, I wanted it done and off my laptop as it's been bugging me, and I kind of want to write more of the scenes that come after. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know. I have very little way of judging this level of sex scene in my own writing, but I like to try out different styles and topics, so. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.


End file.
